Fighters
by Adrienne Fallow
Summary: Love that only the vicious can produce. A collection of Clato one-shots from before the arena, to the very end. Rated T for occaisonal mild language, and the fact that it's the Hunger Games.
1. A Bit Too Late

_AN: So for those of you wondering where my one-shot went, I basically decided to change it into a collection of one-shots! I'm sorry for any inconvenience this causes, but I'm sure it will be easier this way. Nothing will be directly related, and I'll try to just go with the flow I guess. Please review, review, review!_

Oh, how something as trivial as love can eat you up.

Perhaps not as brutally as the pain now overtaking my body, but still. Torturous.

As I lie here, surely going to die, surely fading quickly, something has taken me aback. I would be lying if I said I hadn't imagined this moment. I am not so thick-skulled as to think I was invincible, that nothing could have stopped me. Still, whatever thinking ability I have left cannot fully wrap itself around the fact that I am dying. Me. Clove. The vicious knife thrower from District 2. The one who doesn't hesitate to betray you, and surely won't hesitate to kill you.

It appears the tables have turned.

Nothing, not even the ten arduous and painstaking years of training I endured, could have prepared me for that. No trainer could have drilled me, nor could any skills have saved me. The sheer force of the way I was uprooted from the ground was enough to knock all my fighter instincts out of my head.

And just as I was about to kill that bitch, too.

Cato had warned me to make it quick, to just get it over with so we could go win and go home. But no, Clove doesn't kill someone without seeing it in their eyes first. The fear, the panic, everything that made them scream, _prey_. It almost made up for all the pain I've been through. Almost.

_Well_, I thought to myself, _Cato must surely be having a laugh now_.

Deep down though, I know that is far from the truth. How could someone who held me so tightly when we heard we could both go home, who promised me over and over that I'd be the one coming out alive; how could they not care? I'm sure, if I was not already losing my senses, I'd be devastated at our unfortunate turnout. Looks like that faraway dream of going home together was really just that, a dream. However, my heart does register one thing. Love.

And the very thought of that is simply absurd.

The only thing that really matters for us is bringing honour to our district. From such a young age it is drilled into our heads, and presented to us as our only true goal in life. And, it appears, I have failed miserably at that.

Careers are not trained to love. Careers are not fed compassion and care. No one asks if we're okay when we get hurt in training. No one gives a damn if your leg is broken, you're going to run that mile anyways, sweetheart. No. Careers are trained to kill. To kill in the most grotesque ways possible, methods that could only be perceived in the mind of psychopath. And maybe we are all insane. Maybe I am mental, the way I would pretend the training dummies were people, and how I wished the synthetic material being constantly torn apart by my knives was human flesh. Underneath my human exterior, I really am a monster.

_Then why did I call out his name?_

While it's understandable that being near death can cause some unexpected reactions, and adrenaline can just run wild, I knew that when I yelled out his name, it was only him I wanted to come for me. As the rock that surely has ended me came crashing against my skull and shattered my vision into a billion pieces, only one thing made sense. He has to come for me. He has to. He has to. He has to.

And even now as I lie in my own blood, waiting for the darkness to come take me, the way he yelled my name back gives me hope.

Not hope that I may live, because it is beyond anyone's capabilities to save me now. I refuse to delude myself. However, it gives me hope that maybe I can finally be happy. A release from this world is what I've always been looking for, and what better way to spend then with Cato.

Cato. Do I love him?

Yes I think I do.

Sure, it may not be like the mushy gooey made-up love between those two district 12 brats, but we still love eachother. The late nights at training, volunteering in the hopes of dying near his side, and even the faint illusion of a life back home. But even that has been stolen from us now, leaving nothing but the hope of holding his hand as I finally get to escape my hellish life.

In seconds he is beside me. I can feel his weight next to me, and can detect his fingers tracing my features, gently smearing blood across my pale skin.

"Clove."

Yes that's him. Barely though, I can tell a part of his sanity has already left him. His voice wavers uncharacteristically, and his breath can't seem to find a steady pattern. _Don't worry_, I want to tell him, _You can still win, you can do it. Even without me. _Unfortunately, talking has become as difficult as swallowing fire. So for whatever small consolation it gives me, I gently squeeze his hand.

That sends him way over the edge.

"Clove! Clove! Clove, wake up! Clove! Clove come on, we have to win!"

He is screeching hysterically, his hands shaking as he tries to grab a hold of reality. I'm dying, let me go Cato. You can't save me. Let me go.

His screams have become sobs as he buries his head on my chest, and tries to shield himself from the crumbling world. The brutish boy who can snap a neck in seconds is crying. My heart is twisting into knots as I realize how helpless I am. Oh, why can't I just comfort him? Reach out to him and tell him what really should have escaped my lips a long time ago?

And suddenly it hits me, it really hits me.

I love him. More than I love killing. More than I love blood and tears and screams. I really, truly love Cato.

Clove is apparently capable of love. This must be a crazy day for everyone.

This stirs me to do something. Anything. I can't die without him knowing.

Using everything I have left, I raise my fragile hands to his face and wipe the tears from his eyes, leaving a faint trail of blood on his skin. He calms down as I force my glassy eyes to focus on his. Knowing I have but seconds to live, I force the only kind thing I've ever said out of my mouth.

"I love you".

And with that my will to live dissapates, knowing I have finally accomplished something in my life. I close my heavy lids and welcome the warm and sweet smelling darkness that has begun to envelop me. I'll never know if Cato said "I love you" back, nor if he went on to win. All I know is that he finally heard that I loved him, and that was enough to let me die in peace.

_I really did love him_, I thought as a faint smile crossed my lips, _I realize that now_.

It seems, however, just a bit too late.


	2. Everyone Is Afraid Of Something

_AN: Clove's view during the tracker jacker attack. Let me know if I'm doing something wrong, and don't be afraid to point something out or suggest something._

This can't be real. No way.

Reality , or at least the reality I know, does not bend and ripple. The sky isn't a blend of every shade and hue you can imagine, and the ground certainly does not move in waves, uprooting everything in its path including me. Everything surrounding me is an explosion of colour and noise, and nothing can seem to stay still.

And the pain.

Enormous welts have surfaced in groups on my skin, and acidic poison is already coursing through my veins. My blood is pounding through me at hyper-speed, as if it's confused, and doesn't know where to flow. With all this pain, it seems that my senses have increased a hundred fold, so that as i stumble wildly through the forest, every step sends a bone shattering vibration up my leg. I can tell that what normally wouldn't even scratch the surface of my hard facade, is now whirling me through a whole other world of pain. Everything is so fake, so extreme.

Even though it feels so real.

As I run into about my sixth tree, I stumble to catch my breath and try to remember what the hell I'm doing. I guess that's the thing about tracker jacker poison, even remembering what you're running from is close to impossible. Oh that's it.

Tracker Jackers. Delivered herself by none other than District twelve.

Oh, it's going to be so fun to kill her.

But as much as thinking about ripping her head off is enticing, I have to keep running (or, in this case, stumbling). Just for a little more motivation, I feel another stinger dig through my skin right on the back of my neck. The immediate pain is enough to make me jolt to my feet, but I soon find that my body is not responding exactly the way I want it to.

My vision is the first to go.

I am smothered in what can only be described as darkness. The blackest black you can imagine. I've never done well with darkness, it's one of the very few things that actually make me worry. Or rather, panic. There are too many memories of dark nights, moments of pure weakness, and tears that blurred my already unstable vision. The darkness that never relented, that never kept haunting me and torturing me. Until he showed up.

Cato.

He was the most arrogant, snarky, annoying and immature person I had ever met. And of course, that's why we got along so well. We led our own way through the training, ignoring the older kids who at first despised us. Ignored us and told us a guy as headstrong as him, and a girl as weak as me would never be given the honour of volunteering. After a while, they were terrified of us. I like to think of it as a deep respect. He had been my kickstand, someone to lean on when the black began to smother me again. He gave something to look forward to. A light.

But then we ended up here together, one surely going to die, and the darkness coated me once again. I thought i was surely going to go insane.

Now though, I really am going insane. Something I had learned once, I think at school back in District 2, told me that tracker jacker venom can cause severe hallucinations, most of them targeting what you fear most. Pondering this, shapes form and the world is suddenly back in view, although something is wrong. Something is very wrong. What do I fear? What can a girl like me really fear? I have built up a resistance to fear. What most scream at, I laugh at.  
So what am I afraid of?

Unfortunately, I am given an answer.

I find myself standing in an open meadow, with sweet smells and bright flowers surrounding me. Where the hell am I? This is certainly not District 2, with its concrete and mountains. Am I in another part of the arena? Before i can survey the rest of the area, Cato materializes at the end of the field. His face lights up and waves at me. What... what happened? Am I already awake from the venom? I decide it's best not to go against common sense, and begin walking towards him. He walks towards me as well, smiling like a kid in a candy store. I find myself smiling back, but something in the back of my head is screaming at me to stop. Where are Glimmer and Marvel... Nalen and Fia? And what part of the arena is this... it's so different from the usual dense forest.  
As I near Cato, something seems off. I stop for a second, and so does he.

"_What are we doing here_?" I yell to him.

Strangely enough, he yells the exact same thing. In perfect unison.

"_Where are_-" I begin to ask, but stop because he's copying me again.

Alarms are going off in my head, but I still take a few more steps closer to him until we're less than two feet away. I study him closely, and something seems weirdly different. His eyes are too blue, his skin too bright, shining almost. I reach out to touch him, but find his arm reaching out to me too.  
And then i get it.

He's just a mirror of me.

I immediately reach for my knife, but find that it, and the others, is gone. Trapped, I panic and back away, but mirror Cato just fallows me, matching my every move. That stupid sinister smile plastered on his luminescent face. I catch my foot on a rut in the ground and tumble backwards. The graceful flowers with their long leaves began to wind their stems around me and prick me with thorns. I am weaved in place, unable to move a muscle, and I hate it. I hate being defenceless, unable to fight back, unable to kill.

_"You know it Clove. You know you can't live without me."_

I look up in shock to see Cato dangerously close to my face, whispering as another thorn digs into my skin.

_"If I die, you'll have nothing left. No one but me ever loved you. You're nothing without me."_

Water has begun to rise around me, threatening to reach my head. But not before Cato's words can etch themselves into my mind.

_"You always were too weak to go on your own. You'll go insane without me."_

_'Cato you're lying, I-"_

_"Oh, but you know I'm not sweetheart."_

And with that, his skin peels away, and he crumples on top of me. Hysteria is boiling inside of me and everything is fading. I can feel his nails scratching away at my skin, and blood mixes with the water now above my head.

_Get in the water Clove, Get in the lake!_

Where is that coming from. Why am I dying.

I simply cannot form a thought as the black swallows me whole.


	3. Insanity

_AN: Hey guys, I know this is short, but it's all I can come up with after this weekend. I'm so mentally poooped from lack of sleep, and i hoped the dark angst will make up for this. This is Cato's POV shortly after Clove dies. Please review! _

I have to be strong.

But I can't, I really can't.

She was the only thing keeping me from falling in the abyss, the only thing keeping me going. She was my only will to live. And now she's gone and even that has disappeared.

All my other emotions had faded a long time ago, bred out of me through pain and brutality, leaving only one thing on my mind.

_Kill_.

Kill as many people as you can. Quickly, slowly, whatever your dark fantasies are. Carve a design onto their face, make them watch themselves bleed. Get into their heads. Feel what they feel, target their deepest fears. Kill, but make it twisted.

What was the need for emotions when you had a pleasure as deep as that? I didn't need one at least. Though I was bloodthirsty and carnivorous, I was still human. Was.

The thin thread of sanity I had just snapped I'm afraid.

To be quite honest, I didn't quite know what I was anymore. You hear stories of people going crazy, losing their mind and doing obscene things. They make it sound like the most awful thing in the world. To be honest though, it was really nice.

To not have to worry, to not have to think. To just do. Just follow whatever your body does, and not have to worry. So many years of following, listening, training, bleeding, exhaustion. I guess it's just nice not to _feel_ anymore.

Seeing the life drain out of her is what did it for me.

Now that is the most awful thing in the world. To see her skin turn white, her arms go limp, everything just shut down. Even the crazy look in her eyes which I thought would never fade. Now, they just stare back at me, glassy and blank. I know I should feel sad, feel devastated. I know I should beat the ground like I did when Katniss freaking Everdeen blew up the supplies. I should be sobbing my eyes out, finally feeling something after the gruesome days in my life. But no.

All I feel is emptiness.

Emptiness so deep and painful, I wonder if my heart is still beating. It certainly doesn't feel like it is.

Or maybe losing your senses is just a side-effect of losing your mind.

Something is crossing the dark void of my mind however. Revenge. Sweet, savory revenge. I know who did this. How could I forget the way his arm brought down the rock upon her pretty little head. The way she screamed and pleaded, for me.

How I was too late. Too late.

As my body stands with I mind of its own, I have already begun planning. How slow, torturous and painful I will make this. Poor little Thresh will beg for his life, beg for it over and over and over. I will listen. But of course my sanity has already slipped away, so I really won't be listening. I'll slice him up to the point where he is only barely living, but can still writhe with pain. I need to see it on his face. The way it was on Clove's.

Maybe my thirst for pain and blood will always be there, even when all hope is lost. Even after she left me so broken and shattered.

But what would I know. I've gone insane.


End file.
